


Red Right Hand

by AngelOfLorien



Series: Daryl & Liv [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Danger, Daryl Dixon Being Daryl Dixon, Daryl Dixon Needs to Use Actual Words, Drama, Drama & Romance, F/M, Gang Violence, Language, Merle Dixon Being Merle Dixon, Negan Being Negan (Walking Dead), Original Character(s), Protective Merle Dixon, Protective Shane Walsh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2020-11-28 13:04:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20967023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelOfLorien/pseuds/AngelOfLorien
Summary: Trouble comes to town, and he's riding a Harley.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Second arc for Daryl and Liv.   
Merle is clean (think Woodbury) but thanks to that old Dixon luck, shit rolls down hill.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan comes looking for trouble.

_You’re one microscopic cog in his catastrophic plan…_

**Six months later**

Liv tromped into the tavern, dripping wet and mad at the world. She went through the public area and upstairs to Scotty’s apartment, calling out a grumbled greeting as she headed for the bathroom.

Scotty stood at the kitchen counter when she came out drying her hair with a towel. “What’s eatin’ you? Look like a little black raincloud.” He took a bite of Lucky Charms from a Cool Whip container, dribbling milk down his chin. 

“And you look like a ten-year-old whose mama left him home alone,” she said, throwing the towel at him. 

Scotty frowned and wiped his chin with the back of one hand. “Your wonderful mood wouldn’t have anything to do with Daryl’s bike not bein’ in your driveway this morning, would it?”

She shot him a look. “No, Scott. It mostly stems from my having to hoof it from Patty’s Diner because I thought it’d be a good idea to get in shape, so I walked there for breakfast this morning. It started pouring rain halfway back, so now I look like a wet cat. ‘bout as happy as one, too.” She gathered her longish red hair into a ponytail, then planted hands on hips and sighed. “He left last night.”

Scotty shook his head. “How long this time?”

She shrugged. “Said his brother needed his help moving into a new place. Don’t think that’s true, of course,” she added. “The man can’t lie to save his life. Not to me, anyway.”

“You thinkin’ trouble?”

She shrugged again, glad she had a brother she could confide in, even if half the time it was against his will. “With Merle Dixon involved? More than likely. Then again, who the hell knows? Maybe really is just moving into a new place. Turning over a new leaf. Doubtful, but maybe. I’d be more willing to bet he’s trying to get Daryl to pull up stakes and be his right hand at whatever cockamamie scheme he’s got brewin’.” She frowned. “Dammit, this isn’t helping my mood. Let’s go downstairs and get this inventory crap done so I can go home and get cleaned up before we open.”

She went down the narrow stairwell, heard Scotty mumbling about finishing his breakfast. She went into the cooler and remembered she’d left the inventory list on the bar. Muttering curses, she stomped over and snatched up the paperwork, then nearly jumped out of her skin when she turned around and saw three men sitting at a table in the middle of the tavern.

“We’re closed, fellas,” she said, clearing her throat. 

They made no move to leave. Her heart rabbitted in her chest, and she eyed the strangers a bit more closely. She’d never seen the two on either side of the table before. Looked like the type she passed in EZ-Mart all the time. A little skeezy, a little worn, either from work or drugs. Or both. The man in the middle, however, looked vaguely familiar. His leather jacket was well taken care of and his black hair was stylishly cut. He took a deep breath and smiled, and something in that grin made Liv want to shiver. 

“This your place?” he asked lightly.

Liv nodded. “Mine and my brother’s. He’s upstairs,” she felt the need to add.

His grin widened at that. “No need to be nervous, sweetheart. You know who I am?”

“Should I?” 

The man laughed, and that’s when it clicked for her. _Negan_. She’d seen his face in the paper a while back when a member of his MC had been suspected of killing a doctor who’d been dealing on their turf.

“I,” he said as he slowly rose from his chair, “am the man your boyfriend tried to royally fuck over. See, usually I don’t give two shits about some piss-ant infringing on my territory. I send my boys out and the business is handled. But when the piss-ant goes to the city and makes deals with my business rivals…well, you can see how that would be inconvenient.”

Liv’s eyebrows lifted. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” she said. “My boyfriend’s a mechanic. He’s not—” 

“Ah, ah,” he chided. “No need to lie. I haven’t lied to you, so when you lie to me, it’s rude as hell.” He rounded the table with lazy strides and propped against it, crossing his arms. His black eyes were cold. “Where’s…” He glanced over his shoulder at the wormy-looking blonde. “What the fuck’s this guy’s name?”

“Dixon. Daryl.”

“Daryl? Holy shit, don’t get much rednecker than that, huh?” He whistled and laughed, then turned back to Liv. “Where’s Daryl?”

She shook her head. “I…I don’t know. He left town. I don’t know where he is.”

Negan’s eyes narrowed and he pushed away from the table. “Didn’t we talk about lying?” He approached, and Liv stepped back until her hips hit the table behind her. He gently cupped her chin in his hand and raised her face. “One more time, sweetheart, and then I won’t be doing things so chummy.” He lowered his cheek to hers and whispered in her ear. “Where is Daryl Dixon?” When he pulled back, she trembled, and he grinned cheekily.

“Daryl hasn’t done anything to your business,” she said. “His brother…his brother’s small-time and don’t pose a threat to you. But Daryl ain’t even in the game.”

“That isn’t what my intel says,” Negan said.

“Then your intel is bullshit,” she said.

Negan laughed again and waved the other two Saviors up. “See if her brother’s really upstairs,” he said. “This could’ve gone so much easier,” he told her. “People always want to make things so fucking difficult.” 

A shout from upstairs made her gasp and she tried to run toward the stairwell, but Negan grabbed her around the waist and clamped a gloved hand over her mouth. She struggled and clawed, but he held tight. She tried to call Scotty’s name, but the sound was muffled.

“Shh, shh, shh. Calm the fuck down. Brother-dear’s just getting an abridged version of the message I’m trying to send.”

A heavy thump from above had tears flowing down her cheeks. _Scotty_! What had they done?

Negan turned her in his arms and took her chin again, brushing a tear with his thumb. “Now, you get on the phone and you tell loverboy that if his ass isn’t back here in two fucking days, there’ll be hell to pay and you’re the one who’ll pay it.” He whistled shrilly and a moment later, footfalls on the stairs heralded the departure of the two Saviors from Scotty’s apartment. “This’s a cute place you got here, sweetheart. Be a shame if someone burned it to the ground.” He pointed at her with a crooked smile. “Two days, boo, and then I’ll be back. Oh, and I don’t have to go through the bullshit about the cops, right? You look like a smart girl, so you know I’ll fuck up everything and everyone you’ve ever loved if you go to the cops, right?” He nodded when she did. “Okay. Cool. See you in a couple days. Might want to take your bro to get checked out. Dark stairwells can be a hazard.”

With that, he was gone.

Liv stared at the door for a few seconds, just to be certain they were really gone, and then she bolted for Scott’s apartment, screeching his name.

\--

Daryl was tired to the bone. He sighed and looked at Merle, who paced the width of the narrow alleyway in short, tense strides. His brother was clean, his eyes clear of drug use—a rule, he’d learned when he’d gotten to Atlanta, that had come down from the head of the new gang Merle had gotten tangled up with. Nobody could dip into the stash. Daryl wanted to snort at the ridiculous notion that a bunch of addicts pushing dope would get clean, but once Merle had told him about the guy running the show, he’d realized he wasn’t anything to take lightly. 

Merle had gotten in over his head. No surprise there. And he’d called Daryl to bail him out of it. No surprise there either. What did surprise him was the raw panic he saw behind his brother’s eyes when he’d told him about the job he was supposed to pull. 

“Merle,” he called. “Calm down. Stop pacin’.”

“Baby brother, you ain’t got business tellin’ me to calm down. This asshole wants me to kill somebody, do you get that? I’m a piece-a shit, man, but I ain’t about to put a bullet in somebody I don’t know deserves it.” He squatted across from Daryl and scrubbed his hands on his head in frustration. “This fucker’s crazy, man.”

“What’d you expect, Merle? They got a turf war goin’ with the Saviors. Hell, this is big shit. It’s _real_.” Daryl’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out. “It’s Liv. Stow it,” he barked when Merle opened his mouth. “I ain’t in the mood.” He took a deep breath and answered the phone. “Hey, girl. Whatchoo—what? Baby, slow down.” His eyes widened and he was on his feet in an instant. Now it was his turn to pace. “Are you okay? Did he—why—Aw, hell. Is he okay?” He rubbed his eyes. “A’ight. A’ight, Livia. I’ll be there. I’m comin’ home.”

Merle stood. “The hell you mean? You’re ditchin’ me?”

Daryl focused on his breathing, trying to keep from lashing out blindly and annihilating the closest thing he could get his hands on—in this case, his screw-up of a brother. 

“Negan went after my girl,” he said, his voice barely more than a growl.

Merle’s features tightened and his gaze skittered away from Daryl’s. “Shit.”

“To hell with this,” Daryl said, heading toward the mouth of the alley. “To hell with all this. I gotta get home. I’m tired of tryin’ to keep you alive!” he hollered at Merle. “You can dig yourself outta your own shit this time.”

“They hurt her?”

He almost missed Merle’s quiet question, but he turned and pierced him with a fierce glare. “No. But they beat Scotty to hell and back. He’s in the hospital.” He slung a leg over his Triumph and cranked the engine. “Negan’s looking for me,” he added accusingly.

Understanding dawned bright in Merle’s eyes, and he nodded. “I’ll go with you,” he said, heading toward his own bike.

“You bail on this job, this dude’ll be out for blood.”

Merle shrugged, trying to look like he wasn’t worried, but Daryl could tell it was forced. “That gal of yours is a pain in my ass, but she’s yours, so I guess I best just get used to her bein’ part of the family. Ain’t gotta like family to stick by it.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liv deflects inquiries from a concerned deputy. Daryl tries to keep his girlfriend from kicking his brother's ass. Merle...is Merle.

Liv walked the hospital hallway, looking for a vending machine and feeling like a rat in a maze. Scotty was asleep, so she’d gotten out to walk.

For the first time in her life, she had no inkling of what to do with a situation. Always before, she’d been able to analyze a problem from all angles and—if she actually thought it through instead of just reacting—things generally turned out okay. But this…  
This was Daryl’s life she was talking about. And hers. And Scotty’s. And anybody else’s Negan wanted to snuff out to make his point. She rested her forehead against a window that overlooked a billboard for some lawyer. What was she going to do? How could she fix this? When Daryl had said he was on his way home, at first she was relieved because she would know he was okay and he’d help her think of something. But the more time passed, and the closer he got, the more she worried about him.

She flinched when someone laid a hand on her shoulder. She hadn’t heard anyone approach. 

“Whoa,” Shane said, holding up his hands. “Easy, tiger.”

She sighed. “What’re you doin’, Shane? Don’t you know it’s rude to sneak up on people?”

“Livvy, I got keys janglin’ and—I couldn’t sneak up on a corpse in this get-up,” he said, waving toward his uniform. “Ain’t my fault your head was off in the clouds somewhere,” he said with an easy grin. “You a’ight?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, turning to resume her search for a coke machine. “Just not really in the mood to shoot the bullshit, ya know?”

Shane matched her step for step. “Why you hate me, Olivia? I ain’t ever been anything but good to you, ever since you were a kid.”

“I don’t hate you,” she said on a sigh. “I’m just tired and in a mood right now. I’m sorry. And no you haven’t,” she added, frowning over at him. “You’ve been a real asshole to me at times.”

He grunted disagreement. “Jackass I’ll accept, but you ain’t seen me be a asshole.”

She stopped and faced him, planting hands on hips. “Why are you following me?”

He held up his hands again. “I was just walking. Damn.”

She rolled her eyes. “What do you want, Shane?”

His eyes changed from mischievous to serious in a heartbeat. “Wanted to make sure you’re a’ight,” he said. “Heard about Scotty’s accident. I know we ain’t been close in a while, but I hated hearing about it. Come to check on him. How’s he doing?”

“He’s gonna be fine. Couple broken ribs and a concussion. Fractured his arm.”

“And he fell down stairs?” Shane asked.

“Yeah,” she whispered. 

And just like that, it all came crashing down. Liv’s breath caught in her chest and a sob heaved out of her of its own volition. She started to melt, to sit in the middle of the corridor, but Shane wrapped an arm around her shoulders and ushered her to a nearby waiting room sofa. 

“Hey, hey. It’s all right, Livvy. He’s gonna be fine,” he said, rubbing her back in soothing circles. “You’re all right.” He pulled her closer and she curled into him.

She was scared. Scared for her brother. Scared for Daryl. Scared for everything she loved. She wanted to tell Shane the truth. He was a cop, after all, and maybe he’d know what to do. But she had no doubt in her mind that Negan would hold good on his promise to destroy everything. 

“Sorry,” she said, sitting up abruptly. “Shit, Shane. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to fall apart on you like that. Just overly tired, I guess.” The lie burned on her tongue.

“No need to apologize,” he said. He was in cop-mode. She could see it in the set of his shoulders now. “You wanna tell me what’s really going on here?”

“Nothin’. Like I said, just tired. Worried about Scotty.”

“Where’s your shadow?” he asked. “Something like this, upset as you are? Kinda weird Dixon ain’t here, isn’t it?” 

“He’s out of town,” she said. “I called him. Should be here anytime.”

Shane’s jaw tensed and he scoffed. “Olivia, dammit. What kinda trouble you in?”

She shook her head, hoping she looked exasperated instead of scared. “No trouble, Shane. Just had a weird moment, that’s all.”

“Bullshit,” he spat. “I known you your whole life and I ain’t ever seen you cry like that. Pissed off crying, sure. But that…that was something else. Lie all you want, but I ain’t letting it drop. Not while Scotty’s laid up in the damn hospital for whatever it is you won’t tell me. Fell down the stairs, my ass. That’s a bullshit excuse battered wives use, Liv.”

“Please just leave it. Go back to being the self-centered asshole I’ve grown to accept you as,” she said miserably. 

A voice echoed down the hall and had her on her feet before pounding footsteps even rounded the corner. 

“Liv!”

She hurried forward, caught Daryl as he came into view, wrapping her arms around his middle and hanging on for dear life.

He squeezed an arm around her shoulders and cradled the back of her head, murmuring apologies as he kissed her hair. “I got you,” he whispered. “It’s a’ight, gjrl. I gotcha.”

“Livvy,” Shane said, rising from the couch. “You decide to pull your head outta your ass and tell me what the hell’s goin’ on, you got my number.”

Liv squeezed Daryl tighter and nodded once. Shane was pissed. And he wouldn’t leave it alone. He was too good a cop. 

\--

Daryl drove her home since she’d ridden in the ambulance with Scotty. He pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. “Listen,” he said, voice rusty. “I’m sorry, Liv. I didn’t want you involved in this. I shoulda never dragged you into—”

“It isn’t your fault, Daryl,” Liv said tiredly, climbing off the bike. “You didn’t know this would come back. Damn Merle and his scheming.”

“Well that ain’t very friendly, li’l sister,” Merle said from the porch swing.

Liv whirled, so out of it that she hadn’t noticed Merle’s ostentatious motorcycle parked on the other side of Daryl’s beat-up truck. “You,” she snarled, heading for him. He stood to meet her. “You self-centered, worthless, junkie asshole!” 

She lit into him, shoving against his chest. He took her wrists in his big hands and kept her from doing any real damage, but she pulled free and gave him a good, solid fist to the mouth. Driven by reflex, he pulled his hand back like he would retaliate. Her chin came up as she tugged against the hold he still had on one wrist.

He released her with a curse and looked at Daryl, then down at her. “I’ll let you have that one free, on account of your brother’s laid up and you ain’t thinkin’ right.”

“I ain’t scared of you,” she said. “You wanna go, we can go. Don’t look at him,” she said when he glanced again at Daryl. “This is me and you.”

“Liv,” Daryl said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

“I ain’t come to fight with you, Raggedy Ann,” Merle said. “For whatever reason, your pussy’s got my brother downright domesticated, so I come here to help him get his house in order.”

“Oh, so you’re gonna try to fix your own mess for once?” she snapped. “You want a medal?”

“That’s enough,” Daryl said, unlocking the front door. “Inside.”

Liv strode past both of them, heading for the kitchen. She dug around in the cabinets, clunking pots and pans, until she uncovered a bottle of vodka she’d put back for a rainy day. And today it was raining buckets.

“Tell me what happened,” Daryl said, leaning against the counter. He watched her silently as she cracked open the bottle and took a heavy pull. 

“I told you,” she croaked, coughing a little as the alcohol burned its way down. “Negan showed up. Said you were in some kinda cahoots with his competitor. Said you had two days to get back to town and sort this out.” She frowned and dragged a hand across her forehead. “I reckon…I mean, he’d have to have guys watching the house, right? To know when you got home?” She looked at him with wide, frightened eyes. “He’ll know you’re here now. Daryl—”

“He said two days,” he said. “He ain’t around right now, Liv.”

“Might have some of his boys out there, like she said,” Merle called from the couch. “S’pose I could go take a look. Got a piece?” he asked as he stood.

“You sit your ass back down,” Liv said, jabbing a finger in his direction. “You ain’t my favorite person on the best of days, Merle. Best for you to just keep still and shut your jaw a while before I break it.”

Merle’s eyes narrowed. “You best get your head straight, li’l sister. Ain’t nobody gonna talk to me like that.”

“I just did,” she said. “And I mean it. So shut the hell up.”

Merle took a step forward and that was all the encouragement she needed. She heaved the vodka bottle, watched it fly end over end straight for Merle’s head. 

“Liv!” Daryl barked.

Merle batted the bottle away and it crashed into the china cabinet, shattering and spraying vodka and glass all over the floor. Daryl made a grab for Liv, but she launched herself at the older Dixon, barreling him back with a shoulder to the stomach. She punched him, harder than she had on the porch, and pain radiated from her fist to her elbow. Merle caught her up and spun her around with an arm around her neck. He out a hand when Daryl started for him.

“You listen,” he said between clenched teeth, giving Liv a little shake. “I ain’t fightin’ you. Y’all need me here, ‘cause if shit goes sideways, ain’t nobody else got the stones to take this sumbitch out.”

“Let her go, Merle,” Daryl said.

“I will, soon as she accepts that we’re all in this together.”

“_Now_,” Daryl said, his voice a dangerous growl.

Liv relaxed against Merle’s hold and nodded. “Okay,” she choked out. He released her immediately and she sucked in a breath. She shook her hair out of her face and peered up at Merle, noting with dark satisfaction that his cheek was already bruising.

“Yeah, you got a good one in,” he said as if reading her mind. “More’n most people have ever got. Don’t let it go to your head, ‘cause you ever try again and I’ll lay you out. Daryl’s girl or not.”

She nodded, then looked around at the mess in the living room. “Well, shit. I guess I better clean this up.”

“Merle’ll get it,” Daryl said. 

“Man, she’s the one who threw—” He broke off with a sigh when Daryl shot him a warning look. “Fine. Fuck.”

Daryl laid a hand on Liv’s back and ushered her back toward the kitchen. “You need to ice that hand.”

She looked down at her knuckles, swollen and streaked with red and purple. “Punching people hurts.”

“No shit,” he muttered. He snagged the dishrag off the cabinet and moved to the freezer, and she hopped up onto the counter to wait. He returned with a frozen bag of purple hull peas wrapped in the towel. Taking her hand gently, he lifted it an examined her knuckles with a frown. “Don’t think nothin’s broke.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. 

“Ain’t my face you hit,” he said with a shrug, placing the peas where he wanted them. He looked up, sighing softly, and chewed his lip. “You a’ight?”

She nodded and met his eyes. “I’m scared,” she admitted with a sheepish half-smile. “I don’t understand why this is happening.”

“The gang Merle got tied up with, they’re beefing with the Saviors over turf.”

“But what’s that got to do with you?” she asked. “You’re not involved.”

“I dunno,” he said. “Maybe Negan figures since that business out at the Hollow last year was at my house that I was in it.”

“He said he had intel. He knew you were with Merle in Atlanta.”

“Somebody’s settin’ us both up,” Merle said, returning the broom to the corner. He snatched a roll of paper towels from the top of the microwave. “Need to find out who.”

“One thing at a time,” Liv said tiredly. “I’m sorry ‘bout your face,” she called after him.

“I’s born with it,” he called back. “I’ll live, Raggedy Ann. Don’t you worry ‘bout me.”


End file.
